A God In The Shed Novels & Stories

The psychopathic lord bobbed his head, cracking his knuckles as he spoke; his tone low and gravelly. “Yes, test out the improvements; I will take care of our niece.” Hades smiled, watching as his brother shuffled towards the metal door, carefully slamming it behind him.

Arthur found me weeping in the pantry yesterday, overwhelmed by the certain, inexplicable feeling that I had left the oven on in a house I’d never lived in. They are everywhere. A God of the Particular Way Dust Motes Dance in a Sunbeam. A God of the Lingering Taste of Metal. A God of That One Word You Can’t Remember. They are born from the fallout—the Warden’s clumsy creation, our son’s unleashed power, the dissipated melancholy of the Muse. They are too numerous to fight, too fragile to destroy. Stepping on the wrong patch of carpet might annihilate the God of Worn-Out Sock Elastic, and who knows what the metaphysical repercussions of that would be?

I nodded toward the cage, "Now, you’ll learn what shelf life feels like.” I snapped my fingers, and my men grabbed him. They shoved him into the cage and slammed the door shut. I crouched to meet his eye through the bars. “You thought you were God.” I paused. “Turns out, God didn’t show up. …I did.”

"My parents taught me the essentials of telling the truth and I guess I honour their teaching by keeping to it. It reminds me of them and overtime it became one with me so it's both. I can't lie and I won't lie." I blink at him, once then twice, not knowing what to say next. "Do you... have a territory or something. Like a place you take care of?" When I ask this question, I expect him to tense up but he is at ease and so relaxed that I am tempted to watch his every movement. "In a way, yeah. I guess you could say that I am the god of the Fae Folks." My eyes widen and the cutleries in my hands drop back on the table. "You- you're the god of what?"

shouts from the gods' dais. Everyone obeys, looking at each other, unsure of what to do amidst the confusion that engulfs them. At that moment, a supernatural roar is heard, and the door swings open wide, making way for Yaldabot, the feared god of the underworld. His presence is terrifying, his body shrouded in shadows, his gaze piercing. Yaldabot surveys everyone with a cold and gloomy expression. His eyes gleam with infernal fire as he strides directly towards the goddess Luna, who shrinks in fear at his imposing presence. The air around him becomes thick and laden with dark energy.

Rhoda adds. "Precious and loving God, You're an excellent God who heals and shows us your miracles every moment, We Love you, God, Thank you, Lord," Rhoda said, echoing Robert's words, "Amen, Jesus, amen!" “Amen, Lord Jesus!” says Rudolf. They were all crying out to God, thanking Him for the marvels. The raucous flocks are beginning to disperse as they all harvest the worms and insects that have taken up residence in the healing garden's plants. They check it out.”No more green vegetables left!” Rudolf exclaims.

"You will remain here." The streets below were home only to ghosts and shadows now. The people were cowering in whatever safe haven they could find, whether it be the claustrophobic aisles of a department store or the dark back room of an office. Anywhere was better than the bubbling mire outside. The heat from the burning blood would not affect the deity who once walked in his own volcanic Eden. Nor did it affect the creatures he crafted but it certainly made their way more taxing. Isaac watched as a soft haze encapsulated the God's body and slowly, he began to fade, glowing translucent and glorious.

After divorcing Keith, my world finally went quiet. With the money I received, along with my own savings, I opened a small floral studio. As I surrounded myself with flowers and greenery every day, my life became peaceful and full again. I thought Keith and I would never cross paths again for the rest of our lives. Until one day, he showed up at the door of my studio, reeking of alcohol. He had lost so much weight that he barely looked like himself. His eyes were sunken, and his face unshaven. He looked worn down and broken.

Elias instinctively reached up, touching the tarnished silver band resting on his brow. "It wasn't mined, Architect," Elias said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It was recovered. From the impact crater." "What crater?" I demanded. "The one at the roof of the world," Cord answered, stepping forward, his massive chest heaving. "The highest peak in the northern frozen wastes. The wolves call it the Goddess's Tear. It is a massive, frozen crater where a fragment of the moon struck the earth ten thousand years ago." I felt the familiar, terrifying thrill of a new impossible equation locking into place.

He shouted after me with a chuckle. I looked at the men, silently asking them where Isa had gone. They pointed to a room in the back. I assumed it was where they kept all the other guns, since that was what she came here for. I opened the door to find Isa slamming cabinets and God knows what else. “Tutti gli uomini sono stronzi! Barare, mentire, stronzi!” (Italian for “All men are asšholes! Cheating, lying, asšholes!”) She mumbled as I approached her from behind.